


For Whom the Bell Tolls

by Idonquixote



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Forget everything you know about James Tiberius Kirk, Gen, Hurt Jim, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Issues, M/M, Oneshot, Reveals, Tarsus IV, The OC is a canon character, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-08
Updated: 2014-05-22
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1381441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idonquixote/pseuds/Idonquixote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two-shot. Recovering from the effects of a Klingon mind-sifter, Kirk is forced to remember details he preferred to keep hidden. Near catatonic, he only allows the presence of two people near him: Pavel Chekov and Ambassador "Selek." As he breaks down, certain members of the bridge crew learn something devastating about the man they know to be their captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will run for 2 chapters and was done to appease my own (cracky) "nu!Trek conspiracy" theories.

Leonard cursed under his breath. Wanted to drive a fist through the wall. The medical report was sitting, waiting to be completed and saved. Bloodshot eyes glared angrily at the data screen. He couldn't do this. One hand ran angrily through his hair, twisting the strands in frustration. Damn paternal feelings. 

The scans glared back at him, pictures of hairline fractures and bruised, burnt skin. It wasn't so bad on the surface- just some burnt tissue along the temples and wrists, nothing that wouldn't heal. A few bruises on Jim's arms, signs of manhandling, blood on the face, nothing he couldn't have easily gotten at a bar fight. Leonard could give less of a shit about that.

It was the neural damage that tore at him. Trauma, memory loss, signs of bipolar and schizophrenic behavior, things that he wasn't sure Jim would come out of this time. That hot-headed, bratty, arrogant, idiotic, bitter, forgiving, bright... Damn it!

"I'm a doctor," he mumbled, eyes misty, "I'm a doctor." Not a, not a what? If he wasn't a doctor, then at least he could still believe there was some hope. He'd have to break the news to the rest of them now, see what the higher-ups would do about the captain. 

And Leonard couldn't do a damn thing more.

* * *

 " _I'm scared, Jim," he said, huddling in the grass, the alcove too dark and burnt for comfort. Thin fingers clutched at the dying grass, specks of blood from the bad man's death still lingering. He couldn't see through the tears._

_The other boy smiled at him, blue eyes shining in the dark. "You have me."_

_Their hands were touching. The danger was so far away and right above them. "Yeah, that's right. I've got you."_

_Jim._

_Jim..._

_Jim!_

"Jim!"

He screamed. IT was inside him again, tearing at his memories. He couldn't let it rip again. Falling down a cliff. The men dying. Ships exploding. Screaming. Ripping. They were touching him, hands holding him down. 

"Don't touch me!" he screeched, kicking at whoever was grabbing his ankle. 

"Jim, snap out of it!"

Familiar. It was a voice. Dad. Frank. Sam. The janitor. No.

"It's me, Jim. It's me!"

It was so familiar. The man was looking at him. Intense. Eyebrow knit, eyes dark, face set in an aging frown. Bones. Who was? No. No!

"Jim, Jim please."

Another voice. Distant. Stronger hands held him down. He kicked- flecks of green. Sp- Sp- 

"Keptin!"

Arms around him. Shivering. Keptin. Young, a boy. A boy. He shuddered, sinking into the embrace. 

"Jim-"

"Go away!" he cried, sobbing into the boy's shirt. Safe here. Safe here.

He was safe in the boy's arms. This boy smelled clean, like fresh soap- soap was so hard to find. How many days had he gone without bathing? Jim would know. Jim always knew. But he-

A hand on him, not the boy's. So warm. Pale finger, so clean, not like the bad men. So clean. He felt it- it was so warm. So unconditional. He remembered an old man in the snow, with the nice eyes and small smile. So nice. S-

"Spock," he muttered into the boy's chest. 

"Keptin," the boy said again, so soft, so nice.

"I want Spock," he said, "I want Spock." He was chanting. 

"Jim, I am here," the other voice said, the one that belonged to the pale, warm hand. Pointed ears. It was... but it wasn't.

He shook his head. _I want Spock. I want the nice old man._

* * *

 

"It's bad, isn't it?"

Sulu of all people had asked him. Leonard nodded, the details of the report still unfinished. He didn't think he was capable of finishing. The helmsman had requested a chat with him after word of the day's events spread (Leonard suspected the "sewenteen" year old). Truth was the doctor needed someone to talk to anyway. So here they were in his quarters, both reclined on chairs, sipping brandy. Or was it just beer? He didn't know anymore.

Didn't know who to go to. In jams like this, it was Jim that came to him. But now- the hobgoblin was needed on the bridge and Jim was a few sticks short of a marble- and the CMO had never felt so alone. Been taking Jim for granted for far too long.

"He won't let anyone near him. Doesn't recognize anyone," Leonard said, staring at nothing in particular.

"Pavel says otherwise," Sulu replied without pause. 

Leonard said nothing. Jim was in sickbay, Chekov by his side- the only crewman Jim would allow near himself. "Lucky him," he snorted.

Sulu was silent. Then, steeled to broach a new subject, he said what he came to say: "I talked to Spock. We need to call New Vulcan."

Leonard raised a brow. "You tellin' me because?"

"The commander had some concerns about what it'd do to his mind. He thinks it's a mind meld the captain needs."

"Couldn't tell me himself?"

"I'm the only one off duty now." Sulu managed a smile. "Figured these things were best said in private."

Leonard remembered Jim saying Hikaru would make a great captain. He was right. Jim was always right in that smartass way. "Tell Spock it's fine. Call them." 

But a part of him was still burning, from alcohol or grief he didn't know. In parts, even a little jealousy over who Jim preferred in his current state. Stupid thoughts. He shook his head- no, it was mostly hurt. Blinding, hopeless hurt.

* * *

_"Jim!"_

_He was lying on the ground, dirt in his mouth, watching with wide teary eyes. The other boy was being dragged away, a steady stream of blood leaving his temple. He tried to reach for him, but he couldn't move. Too tired, too dirty. Everything hurt. There was so much blood._

_He was the red flame of a laser, a brief, quick splurt of blood, and then..._

He awoke with a start. The boy with the curls was with him, so clean and strong. The boy frowned.

"You are crying," the boy said. 

"I don't want to die," he said, feeling the tears on his face for the first time. They stung. 

"You vill not," the boy said, his own lip quivering.

"How do you know?" He heard his voice break. The boy climbed on the bed and took him in his arms once more. 

"Because I am here. I vill protect you, keptin. No matter vhat."

He sobbed. He didn't deserve this boy's devotion. Just like he didn't deserve _that_ boy's devotion. 

_He was so hungry. There wasn't much to eat and he had already seen the other children fall over dead, faces pallid and drawn. There weren't many of them left. He was condemned to die here. But the other boy wasn't. He chose to help them._

_"How do you do it?" he asked, sharing greasy meat with the other child. They had found it hanging in an abandoned post and a quick fire later, they were munching on it. Delicious food after three days of nothing in his mouth. The taste didn't bother him at all._

_His protector was silent, eyes suddenly somber. They lit up once more and even covered with dirt, the other child's face was bright and flushed, the golden tuft of hair curling protectively over his right temple._

_"Sometimes, you know, you just gotta live," he said at last, "or every hope and dream anyone's ever had will be for nothing. I can't let that happen."_

_"Sounds like a load of bull," he replied._

_"It won't help you if you're so mad all the time... when we get out of here, I'll show you how to smile more."_

_Clear blue eyes locked with his. His heart skipped a beat for the first time._

"Jim-" The voice that wasn't the nice old man's.

_They were under the stars, holding hands, bleeding from cuts and swollen in dirty places. How many days? He lost count. But he had him. His only friend, his savior, his new brother, his everything..._

"Jim."

He stared, startled. Lost in thought. What thoughts? He was safe, not there in the dirt and sun and blood. He was safe. That voice he knew. He heard a desperate choke. His own.

"Spock," he said, the name natural on his tongue. He remembered the warm touch. The loving old man. 

Pointy ears. White hair. Wrinkled, clean skin. Such kind eyes. So warm. The old man- Spock- sat by him. No other voices. Even the boy was gone. Just them.

"Spock," he repeated, reverent. He touched the robes. He traced the tip of a ear. Recognition. Gently, arms wrapped around him.

"You will be fine," the old man- Spock- said, quiet, loving, gentle. So gentle. Not like those bad men. Not like the kling- he shuddered- not like the bad men.

"Jim, you must let me in." Spock still had hands on his shoulders, protective, strong. 

"Jim can't. Only Spock," he heard himself say. 

Only Spock and the boy could help him now. Only they could keep the bad men away. 

"Will you let me help you? Will you let me in your mind?" So kind, so tender. Love for him. No questions asked. Such purity. Yes. He would do anything for Spock.

He nodded.

A gasp. A flash, seeping in, tingly and strange. Memories joining, mixing. Seams coming together, the warm touch on his head growing warmer. 

 _Jim._ The voice was in his head. _Jim, I am here._

He remembered this.

_Yes. I showed you this before. Remember. I showed you my memories, my emotions. Do not fear, Jim. Now show me yours. There is nothing to fear._

But Jim's gone.

_Let me help. We can find him._

No, we can't. Spock, we can't. He was crying inside, the comforting presence still in his mind, but confused. Spock was confused. He didn't know that Jim was dead. 

_He looked just like him. The boy had hair so yellow it was almost glowing. His eyes were pools of blue, blue, blue. He'd never seen anyone who looked so much like him in his life. It freaked him out._

_"Well, they did say genes can repeat sometimes," the other boy said, "it's one of- one of- my mom calls it life's miracles!"_

_"No, this is just freaky."_

_Tarsus was a freaky place, with grass that was too pretty and skies too blue and it was just weird. He hadn't wanted to come, hadn't wanted to spend the rest of his life here, but this would probably be the case for a long time._

_"What's your name?" the boy asked._

_"I don't want to tell you."_

_"I'm James Tiberius Kirk," the boy declared, sticking out a hand and a grin, "You can call me Jim- do you wanna be my friend?"_

_Most people didn't want to play with bitter orphans. James- Jim- was the first person to try. So he shook the hand awkwardly._

_"I'm Kevin... Riley."_

Spock was still here. But puzzled, confused, still so gentle. Gentler.

He heard himself speak, or think? "Jim's gone... and I'm- I'm..." Someone was crying. It was himself.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's followed! Here's part 2 of this twisted story. This will obviously never become canon, but given how different TOS and AOS Jim are, it's too fun a concept to ignore.

_"Jim's gone... and I'm- I'm..."_

Leonard felt hollow. He didn't know if this was even a betrayal. Blast it all. He was more confused than a hare in the river. The elder Vulcan had shared some interesting revelations with his counterpart, and that was putting it lightly. But this kind of information couldn't be kept a secret. At least, not among the few crew members "Selek" was sure called themselves Jim's friends.

Jim.

Leonard's mind was still reeling. The name sounded so foreign now. Who even was Jim Kirk? The boy who had laughed beside him, spent nights in the dorm chattering about the stars, who had grieved his father so long, who had said so confidently that his name was Jim. Even called him Bones. Called him friend. Shared almost every little secret with him. 

And now, sitting in the XO's quarters, Leonard realized none of them knew anything about James Tiberius Kirk. 

He rubbed his eyes, Uhura and the two Vulcans by his side. Scott had command of the ship and Chekov was still in sickbay with Jim, no... he couldn't bring himself to use the young man's real name.

"Doctor, would you like to hear the rest of the report?" Uhura asked softly.

"Can't say I have a choice."

"I've already told you the most significant details of the meld," Selek said, "but the details match his records... I cannot say I regret the fact that things are so."

_Don't we all._

The younger Vulcan spoke next. "Doctor, were you aware that the captain was among the few survivors of the Tarsus IV massacre?" A rare hint of emotion was in his words- no, Spock did not know this about Jim previously.

"I had an idea," Leonard answered, "he didn't like to talk 'bout it. Didn't wanna pry."

Spock nodded in understanding. "From what we could gather about the captain's past, the medical reports surrounding his return were distressing. Files indicate that James Tiberius Kirk had suffered significant emotional trauma during the course of events. That was the explanation given by his medics for the boy's changing mental state. Winona Kirk's statements indicate that her son was a markedly different character before Tarsus."

"Go on."

"The boy identifying himself as James had trouble recognizing people and places. He showed lapses in memory that were unusual for his situation; for instance, he spelled the name of his favorite Starfleet captain incorrectly and he mistook his brother's room for his own. He had difficulty responding to the names 'James, Jim, and Jimmy.'

He was a far more rebellious child afterwards. He talked back to his stepfather, he took pleasure in physical altercations with his peers, and became significantly more withdrawn and somber. These are all common traits of the survivors. But what unsettled Winona Kirk was her son's lack of perceived affection for her- she described a lack of familiar light in his eyes. She claimed that there was 'spirit' in him- he was not crushed by the past. But this 'spirit,' as she called it, was not the one she remembered."

A mother would always recognize her children. Leonard had to admit this was becoming more complicated by the minute. Not to mention unethical. Should they tell the Kirks? But at the same time, what about the privacy they owed to that man in sickbay?

"Most of the victims were identified," Uhura added, "but the records we sifted through, they showed something I couldn't let rest. Tarsus IV was not unknown for its charity towards orphans. One of the orphanages, _St. Shire's Home for Boys_ , was targeted for attack. Its inhabitants were all singled out for execution. All boys were killed except for one, the one the Federation presumed dead. There was no body to be found and the governor's men weren't able to mark him as gone."

Leonard felt sick. Many things in life sickened him, but none so much as the Tarsus massacre. The fact that his best friend was among the victims made it worse... the fact that his best friend may be living on a borrowed life made it all the more unbearable.

"What was his name?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

"Kevin Riley."

* * *

_His parents had died from some disease he couldn't name when he was two. That was all he knew. Their names were David and Miriam Riley. All he had to remember them by was a holograph in a battered outdated projector. It was the only thing he carried with him, no matter where they sent him afterwards. New York, London, anywhere with people who would take him in._

_But he was always too troublesome, too picky, too angry. And he would always go back into that dumb orphanage._

_People rarely used his name. Names he were used to were brat, stinker, bastard. Dirty little orphan. And he believed them._

_Until Tarsus._

_He was there for three months before **he** came into his life. _

_St. Shire's Home for Boys offered food without taste and bland days with no thrill. But that was supposed to keep them out of trouble, to keep them looking happy, like everything on Tarsus was. So when he had the chance to escape, he did._

_In his mad run through the colony, he bumped into a mirror. Or, what should have been a mirror. The other boy fell back with a oof before they both gaped at one another._  

"I'm sorry," he muttered brokenly, wrapping himself in the sheets.

"Don't be," the boy with the curly hair said, "you did nothing wrong. Nothing at all."

"Why are you so good to me?" He felt the boy wipe his tears.

"Because you are my keptin... and I am your friend."

"Stop calling me that! I'm nobody's captain- I'm just a nobody, a nobody..." He was sobbing again, the boy rocking him softly.

_Jim's aunt had been the most pleasing adult he'd ever met. He made it a habit of eating pie with Jim at her house after that. Jim was from Riverside, Iowa. His hobbies included stargazing, reading antique novels, and running in the hay. The sun had been brighter then._

_And just for shits and giggles, the two of them posed for a holograph together. The aunt said she could barely tell them apart, only by the way they wore their hair and the way they dressed. For the first time in his life, he liked looking at himself in the mirror. Because he saw Jim. Jim, who shone like the sun, Jim, who was his first and only friend, Jim who offered acceptance, friendship, purpose._

He was asleep, dreaming, crying, laughing. That soft, strong hand was smoothing his head.

"It vill be fine," the voice said, "I am here. Ve are all here."

_The night Tarsus plunged into hell, Jim had grabbed his hand and they ran. They hid together, they followed the stars. Ate together, huddled together for warmth, bathed together in the river. They were all each other had. Jim's family on Tarsus had died, slaughtered on the spot, spots of blood still staining his tattering shirt._

_And the orphanage had burned, the children dragged out one by one. Kevin ran away yet again._

_Three, four, five nights. And then Jim had cried into his chest. He had cried back. They had sobbed together in the bushes, afraid of being heard._

He wanted Jim. But Jim wouldn't want to see him now. He didn't know anymore. What did he want? The old man... where was the nice, old man- Spock? And-

"What do I call you?" he heard himself mutter.

"Pavel. My name is Pavel, but sometimes, they call me Pasha."

_They began sharing details. Death was just beyond the horizon and under the many bruises and cuts on their skin, they had worries to dispel. He listened as Jim told him of the constellations, how his father's ashes were there somewhere. Captain George Kirk, a hero who gave his life, a hero Jim worshiped and wanted to become. The words spoken before Jim's birth were shared with Riley. Wonderful, miraculous details. Space was his dream. The love in his eyes when he looked at the stars made Kevin's heart beat._

_And then he told Jim of his parents, the ones he didn't remember. Of the holograph left behind, burned. Of how he had nothing until Jim. Jim was his star, his space. And saying all this, he wanted to cry. Jim told him not to. Jim took his hand._

_And he said he "liked" him too._

Jim was the only person who liked him for who he was, who only gave and never wanted. Spock had been like Jim. He wanted the old man to come see him again. He wanted to feel that warmth, that love.

Even though he knew Jim was dead.

And Spock was Jim's, not his.

_Jim had a will to live. Jim was the one who fired at guards who assaulted them, with phasers he picked up. Jim was smarter, stronger, sturdier. It was because of Jim that Kevin had food, had water, knew when to sleep, run, and hide. Without Jim, he would be long dead._

_Jim would lie awake, holding Kevin, telling him of his life on Earth. Grumpy Frank, that time he drove the car off a cliff, Sammy, his mother. Jim's favorite spots were the wheat field by his house, the view from the school roof, his own two poster bed. Closing his eyes, Kevin imagined every spot, imagined sharing it all with Jim._

_Then they had been caught one night._

_He remembered being loaded in with a group of children, contained in a tunnel, forced to toil, beaten, watching as others died from fatigue and wounds. But Jim was a hero. A week in, both starved and beaten, Jim led the children in a rebellion. They overtook the guards, clawed their way back to the surface, and Jim had taken Kevin's hand. And run._

_"It's going to be okay!" he had shouted, "I'll protect you!"_

_They had shared a dusty kiss._

_But the next night, the governor's remaining men came back. And Jim had been too weak to fight on. And Kevin had been too weak to do anything but cry as they took Jim, as the other boy's eyes glazed over when the butt of a phaser rifle hit his temple._

_And then he stayed rooted to the spot, watching with horrified silence as they prepared to kill Jim. "Kevin, run!" Jim screeched, "Run!"_

_He could have saved Jim. He could have found the strength to knock that laser away. He could have taken the blow himself. But instead, instead he ran as the laser cut into Jim, as the blood poured. He ran away._

_He left Jim to die._

* * *

Leonard hypoed himself yet again. He was going to fall asleep soon enough. But he was this close to gaining closure from the ship's database. Things restricted for the captain's access only. Well turned out, that old Vulcan wasn't beyond overriding some codes to help the CMO. The records dating back to Tarsus, all that depressing mumbo jumbo, and then there was Jim.

Two images slid side by side. One pre-Tarsus and one post. The boy on the left was grinning, blue eyes shining with mirth, as happy a kid as Leonard had ever seen. The boy on the right was darker, a healing bruise on his cheek, his eyes dull and angry, bangs nearly covering them. Regardless of the differences, physically speaking, they were the same person. Or so it seemed.

The document stated that this was indeed James T. Kirk, right down to the blood type and genetic makeup. Leonard frowned. No matter what the crackpots said, it was impossible for two people to have the exact same genes. His hands glided over the keyboard.

No, something was very wrong.

Another file was pulled up, the one of the boy named Kevin Riley. The holograph was blurred and the child's eyes were darkened. This wasn't natural. Someone had deliberately changed the image. _Always one step ahead, huh, kid?_

He checked the genetic code. Blood type was same as Jim's, but the code was different by one molecule. Fingerprint different. Kevin Riley, deceased, place of death: Tarsus IV. No known relatives.

He looked at Jim's file again. Bias aside, Jim was still the Jim he knew, a genius and a cheater, someone unafraid of playing at the edges, unafraid of letting his desperation get the better of him. Leonard didn't need a Vulcan to come to the logical conclusion: Kevin Riley had switched the data, swapped his own info with that of Jim Kirk's. It was identify theft at its finest.

Leonard's shoulders slumped. _Pulled the wool over us all, Ji- Kevin._

* * *

_When the Federation came, it had been nearly a month and they were far too late. There were nine survivors. Jim was not among them. He remembered being wrapped in a blanket and rushed to the nearest hospital, off planet. Tubes, hyposprays, IVs, he hated hospitals. And then there were the questions- who he was, did he have family, did he know anyone who died, things he answered with a vacant look._

_There were reporters, Starfleet officers, bright flashes in his eyes, aliens eager to snap a shot of him._

_When he found the strength to speak at last, he told the doctor that he wanted to call someone. His first thought was Jim. Before he remembered Jim was dead. And then a monstrous thought struck him- he could leave Kevin Riley behind for good, leave him to die with his long gone parents. Kevin had nothing and Jim had everything._

_A family, a home, a dream in the stars. Things a boy named Riley could never have. So he said to the man from Starfleet:_

_"My name's... James, Kirk. James Tiberius Kirk. I have family in Iowa."_

_And they believed him._

He cowered from the man, the one with the hypo. "C'mon, kid, it's me- Bones-"

"Go away! Pasha! Pasha!"

"I'm here, I'm here." 

Pasha was his friend. Pasha would keep him safe. Pasha accepted him. And the man with the hypo couldn't hurt him.

_Jim's mother had been so relieved that no more tests were needed. He had the same blood type, the same face, and he knew every Kirk. He even gave Frank a hug. He had been lucky. They all believed him. To an extent. He remembered nights where the woman he called mother cried over whatever changed him, when the boy he called brother asked him how he was holding up, what happened._

_He said nothing._

_He went to school, lost Jim's friends from his own aloofness, and buried himself in the stars. He had it all now. He would make it last. But he was still angry, bitter at all this that wasn't his. His grades were not better or worse than Jim's, this concern was for Jim, not him. And he didn't know what would happen if anyone found out. It kept him up at night._

_He woke in tears more often than not. He didn't know if Jim would be mad._

_Jim would never be so flippant with his parents, so disrespectful towards his teachers and peers, so much of a bitter troublemaker. But this was all he had to remind himself that he could still be Jim without losing himself._

Spock was back, holding him. Those feelings of warmth hadn't changed. Even though he knew now. "Kevin," the old man whispered, "Kevin, you have nothing to hide. Nothing more."

And he was so overwhelmed that he broke down sobbing once more. Memories jumbled as the old man touched his temples, things were falling back into place, and bit by bit, he could feel himself coming together.

_When Pike came telling him of his father, Kevin's anger had spiked. George was Jim's father, Jim's hero. To Kevin, he was just a reminder of everything he wasn't. That was why it was such a sore subject, not because of any misplaced grief. So to prove that he was as good as any Kirk, he went to Starfleet. He met the man named McCoy and when he said, "All I got left is my bones," he knew what Jim would do._

_Jim would take it as an excuse to give McCoy a nickname. So Kevin called him Bones._

_And none of these people knew him as anyone but James T. Kirk. And then he had cheated on the Kobyashi Maru, a skill for cheating he's always had. And that Vulcan had brought it up again- George Kirk._

_No, he of all people would not understand. Because he had been doing nothing but cheating since the day the real Kirk died._

"Bones," he muttered, looking at the man with the hypo, "Pasha, Spock."

"That's right, Kevin," the old man said, "we are all here. Here to help."

Help. Help. He was floating in a sea of thoughts, Spock doing something to help him fall back into place. Healing the broken. The twice broken.

_And then he had met Ambassador Spock. The old Vulcan had spoken Jim's name with such love that it took him aback. Not since his own voice had he heard someone call for Jim with such devotion. And even Spock had mistook him for Jim. Kevin hadn't wanted to let the old alien touch him, hadn't wanted to let him know the truth, for both their sakes._

_But it happened regardless._

_And the surge of emotion, of Spock's memories was like a tidal wave of warmth. He saw Jim again, the other Jim, the one from the other reality who grew up into everything his Jim should have. Captain Kirk had the love of his crew, faces and names Kevin recognized. A reputation transcending galaxies. Morals, skills, a man so great Kevin balked at his presence._

_This was how Spock felt for Jim. He caught the glimpses, how Jim had changed everything for the Vulcan, how he would follow Jim to the ends of the universe, how the Vulcan, unlike him, had died for Jim without a second thought._

_Kevin was weak at this loyalty, the loyalty that cold-blooded officer would have felt for his Jim had he lived._

_He saw Bones, the best friend that Jim should have had, Pike, the predecessor that Jim should have had, and Spock, the half that should have completed Jim. And then he saw... a flash, a brief glimpse, a man Spock did not care too much for... Kevin Riley, an officer on the bridge, cracking jokes and in the background. This loyalty, this affection, all of this was for Jim, not Kevin._

_He was a mistake. He should have died, not Jim. It should be Jim on that ship, Jim in this meld, Jim with Bones, Jim with Spock, Jim becoming captain. Not him._

_But the old Vulcan didn't pry into Kevin's mind. And Kevin played at Jim until he became Captain Kirk, taking everything that should have been Jim's once more._

* * *

"I'm sorry," Jim, no Kevin, croaked, "I'm so sorry."

"Save it, kid," Leonard told him, his own eyes watering. Two days and five hours since Selek's healing meld and the captain was coherent again. The trauma would still take time- he was only human- but he was going to come out of this.

The XO and his counterpart were still there, Uhura and Chekov on the side, all of them huddled around the captain's bed. This was the man who they knew as Jim Kirk and a name was just a name, wasn't it? But something had hurt Leonard, it hurt that they should have had another man with them. It hurt to be lied to. But Jim or no Jim, this was still the man that they would all die for.

"It should have been me, not him- I should've died," he blabbered.

Leonard didn't know what to say. The truth was that was the way it should have been. But now he couldn't imagine life without this "Jim"- maybe things would have been better with the real Kirk, maybe he was the better man, the better captain, the better everything. But the fact remained that this was still _his_ Jim. And this was the way things were. Leonard would have it no other way.

Maybe the others, no, he knew they did, felt the same.

"Kevin," Selek said, "there are no 'should haves' in your universe. James T. Kirk is-" A tinge of pain in his tone "-not you, but you are where you belong. There is an old Earth saying, things happen for a reason."

 _Even if you cheated with another man's life_. Leonard smiled sadly. He knew already- things wouldn't go back to normal after this. Ever.

And then the younger Vulcan spoke, or rather quoted, "A rose by any other name."

"The hell does that-" Leonard began. Uhura shushed him.

"Cap- Kevin," Spock said, "a name is but a name. I still know you as Jim." _I am still yours._

And then Kevin lunged at the Vulcan, burying himself in the latter's chest. 

* * *

_I'm sorry, Jim, I'm so sorry_.

But he didn't have the heart to let all this go. He clutched at the Vulcan- his Spock, not Jim's, his.

His ship, his crew. And if it meant he'd have to be Jim Kirk for the rest of his life, he was willing. It was shameful, it was terrifying, but he was willing. And he let the guilt and love consume him. He loved as much Jim, would fight as hard as him, would live up to him.

_Jim, I'm sorry!_

Kevin. Jim. It meant nothing anymore. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and hope this story was worth it. Feel free to comment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a comment. I hope the twist wasn't too obvious.


End file.
